


Lust At First Sight

by KnightInShiningMoran



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: High School AU, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 22:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightInShiningMoran/pseuds/KnightInShiningMoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short oneshot in a high school AU. It's lust at first sigh for Erik and Charles, and they have a high speed relationship that takes an awful turn for the worst...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lust At First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was my first AO3 fic, I'm glad you read and enjoyed it. ;3  
> Just incase you're wondering why it's not tagged with 'underage' is because it's not.

It wasn’t love at first sight, not at all. Lust at first sight would have been a more apt description. He was tall and broad, blonde, chiselled, gorgeous. And older; old enough to be able to drive, which at the time, made up for a lot.

Charles mooned after him and followed him around like a puppy: after school, at parties, around town—anything for Erik to notice him.

And notice him Erik did.

Charles was adorable; quite short, with bright blue eyes and perpetually fluffy hair, the expression of a lost child constantly in his eyes. However, behind the boyish charm of those oceanic eyes was something a little more mature, mischievous and feral. It was lust at first sight.

Anyone who saw them together after that point would have said they were in love. They would have been mistaken.

The first time they fucked was in the back of Erik’s car with the seats down. It was a particularly harsh December, and their body heat meant they didn’t have to turn the heaters on, but the windows steamed up and their toes were like ice cubes when they woke up.

Afterwards they listened to a non-stop jazz radio station and curled up under a picnic blanket until the fragile, pale yellow dawn light seeped across the horizon.

It was a whirlwind of quick sex and flamboyant shows of teenage public affection. It was heady and dizzying for both of them, and neither one took a moment to step back and breathe; to take perspective.

It was at a party in mid August — hot, sticky, sunny ‘til ten pm. It was there they had a fight, a large, public affair with lots of shouting outside, a smashed glass, and copious amounts of nicotine to recover. Later, when they had both calmed down, Charles instructed Erik to take them home. For Charles it was his big, posh, rich house. A house they could fuck in as loud as they wanted and no one would ever hear. For Erik it was the modest flat he shared with his mother.

As Erik’s car skittered onto its roof and skidded across the road, bouncing off of the central reservation, Charles wondered how much Erik had drunk earlier, and if it was enough to have him go down for it.

When the car stopped, Charles remembered, very vaguely, turning to Erik and quite simply stating, “I can’t feel my legs,” before everything went out. Fade to black, curtain down, no encore please.

\--

It was a good few days of chemical sleep and surgery before Charles awoke and was

anywhere near coherent. His family were around him; what felt like a thousand concerned faces, all of their mouths telling him to get some more rest, to get well soon, to do things he could not physically do.

Eventually the doctor came round to explain: his legs would be useless for the rest of his life.

Once the family had left for the night, Erik dared to show his slightly bruised and bloodied face. He was pale as he approached — he looked truly sorry, but Charles was angry and irrational and bitter, in no mood for forgiving.

“I’m so sorry...” Erik started. Charles snorted half incredulous, half disgusted, “The other driver did this—” Erik looked determined, like he was out to prove something to Charles, but if he had to fight for his innocence, then how blameless was he really? “He came out of nowhere! I—I...” He trailed off, eyes glazing over, tears spilling from them.

Charles really looked him over, and suddenly it wasn’t the Erik he fell for. His Erik had a smirk that developed into a toothy grin when he was pleased; even when he was nervous there was a curl of his lip — something to indicate he was okay — but not today. Aside from a broken arm and some minor abrasions, he was unscathed. And that only fuelled Charles’ bitterness, his hate for this new dull, lifeless Erik.

“No, Erik...” He spoke eventually, voice hoarse from so many hours of silence, “You did this.”

The look Erik gave Charles before he turned and fled, out of Charles’ hospital room and life, was one he’d never forget. A cross between heart-wrenching agony and sheer terror. And Charles just could not bring himself to be bitter any longer.


End file.
